Grace—it’s why I’m Catholic

There are many reasons to be Catholic. Grace is present in all of them.

By Annemarie Scobey-Polacheck | Print | ShareARTICLE YOUR FAITH

My friend recently asked me in an email conversation why I stay in the Catholic Church. “If that sounds confrontational, it’s not,” he wrote in his email. “At least not yet. I am genuinely curious.”

My friend was raised Catholic but is not currently a practicing member of any religion. He credits the Jesuits with saving his life in high school, and he went to Georgetown University for undergrad and married a Catholic woman he met there. They now have four children. His wife is still a practicing Catholic and brings the younger kids to Mass and religious education. My husband Bill and I are godparents to their third child. 

My friend’s question is a fair one. He’s not asking why I’m Christian or questioning my faith in God; he’s asking me why I belong to a religion that has some elements with which he knows I disagree.

He knows, for example, that I believe the church should ordain married people of both genders, along with men and women who choose celibacy. He knows I believe the question of birth control and family planning is complex and should not be simplified into a one-size-fits-all teaching. He knows that because Bill and I have adopted from the U.S. foster care system, we have a depth of understanding of the ramifications of all types of child abuse.

Yet we have chosen to stay with a church whose leaders failed to protect children from the most egregious of abuse. He knows I hold dear our gay friends and colleagues—that I believe they should be as welcome at the eucharistic table as they are at our own dining room table. 

And yet I’m Catholic. Passionately Catholic. And I could no more change to another Christian religion than I could peel off my skin and exchange it for a different tone with a better hue. 

Why am I Catholic? I may not embrace or even agree with all the teachings of the church, but I believe in all the sacraments. I believe in God’s grace working through them. I’ve felt the grace; I’ve seen it.

When each one of my children was baptized, the grace washed over the whole family—connecting our new little child to us, as parents and their first teachers, back to their grandparents, and to the grace of their great grandparents. Baptism, our first gift of faith to our children, a tidal welcome into life eternal. 

I’ve received communion and have been grateful for the grace that carried me through a difficult relationship. I know it was eucharistic grace that allowed me to be able to reach beyond the angry words I wanted to say to a difficult person, to the better words I needed to say to begin to heal the relationship. 

I’ve felt the grace present in the sacrament of reconciliation. I’ve seen my children leave the church after going to reconciliation feeling more peaceful, acting more loving, trying harder to be who they are called to be. Not leaving the church perfect, by any means—none of us do—but coming out of the sacrament, still imperfect, but full of grace. I remember Liam running around the parking lot of the church when he was about 8, after his first reconciliation, yelling, “I feel so light!” I have felt that lightness, too. It is grace. 

It is marriage where I’ve probably felt sacramental grace most strongly. Bill and I continue to turn to our vows, to our promise to God, to each other. I’ve seen the grace in my parents’ 50-year marriage—two people with completely different personalities who bring out the best in one another. I see the same grace in the marriages of my friends. One friend, whose husband made a hurtful choice, responded by upping her prayer, turning to her husband, and recognizing not only her own pain, but his. She allowed his poor choice to propel them together more in search of God, rather than let his behavior be a reason to drift apart. I watched their grace, and it made me weep. 

Some sacraments seem under-utilized. We do not need to reserve the sacrament of the sick for the dying. Any serious problem—mental, physical, emotional—can be a reason to receive the sacrament. I asked that my daughter Jamie be anointed when she was 1—not because she seemed sick, but because I knew of her past history before she came to us as a foster child. I knew healing was needed. I asked for it. I felt the grace. I feel it now. In 14-year-old Jamie’s exuberant presence is God’s grace. 

And then there’s ordination. God’s profound grace. Some of the most influential, inspirational people Bill and I have ever had the pleasure of knowing and listening to are (or were) priests. These amazing people, in their homilies and in the way they live (or lived) their lives, inspired the decisions we have made and have deepened our own faith journey. Holy orders is a beautiful, grace-filled sacrament. It’s just not expansive enough—we could have even more grace-filled people leading our church. 

And speaking of grace-filled leaders, what about those sisters? I’m Catholic because I stand in awe of the strong, independent, creative women so often at the helm of our Catholic schools, hospitals, and social service agencies. Yes, many of them are retired now, and fewer women are entering orders, mostly because Catholic women today have so many more options than young women did decades ago. These sisters were ahead of their time as leaders. In choosing to forego marriage and family, they were able to experience the greater world in a way uncommon to many women. And in doing so, they lifted us all. 

I couldn’t say all this to my friend in my email, because the email came in at work, and I didn’t have time to respond. But I can say it now. I can explain that I stay in the Catholic Church because of God’s grace present in the sacraments. I have seen how this has led to prayer, service, and goodness in the world. This grace is present in Catholic social teaching, a beautiful set of letters and documents about how we are called to serve our world in a very concrete and practical way. 

I am part of the Catholic Church because I see God’s people, nourished by the sacraments, anointed with oil, splashed with the water of baptism, serving God in great numbers. They teach in schools, work for change, bring about good in the public and private sector. They house refugees and give food and shelter to the needy. They bandage the hurt and the broken, give medicine to the ill, and visit those in prison. They speak out against injustice. I see them, and I strive to use my God-given grace as well as they do. That’s why I’m Catholic.

31st Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C, November 3, 2019-“Salvation has come to this home today”
Father Lawrence Obilor
Daily Readings for Mass
INTRODUCTION
“Late have I loved you, beauty so old and so new: late have I loved you. And see, you were within and I was in the external world and sought you there, and in my unlovely state I plunged into those lovely created things which you made. You were with me, and I was not with you. The lovely things kept me far from you, though if they did not have their existence in you, they had no existence at all. You called and cried out loud and shattered my deafness. You were radiant and resplendent, you put to flight my blindness. You were fragrant, and I drew in my breath and now pant after you. I tasted you, and I feel but hunger and thirst for you. You touched me, and I am set on fire to attain the peace which is yours. And now I know that you have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it finds its rest in you” (Confession of St. Augustine of Hippo).
The experience of the conversion of St. Augustine could be likened to that of Zacchaeus in the Gospel. And the first reading affirms how conversion is made possible through God’s patience and mercy. Yet man must cooperate with this saving grace of God by striving to remain in the good works as St. Paul admonishes the Thessalonians in the second reading.
FIRST READING: Wisdom 11:22-12:2
In this first reading, the author of the book of Wisdom, a Jewish sage responds to an important question that preoccupied the mind of his people, and which we often ask: “Why does God not do away with evil men?” In his response, he affirmed God as a merciful father whose mercy extends to all without boundary. Thus, he does not despise his own, and he values each one of his creatures to the point that even when they offend him, he says: ‘Little by little He corrects them and admonishes and reminds them how they have sinned.’ What a patient God we have!
SECOND READING: 2 Thessalonians 1:11–2:2
At the time Paul wrote this letter, there was confusion in the community of Thessalonica because it was alleged that someone brought a letter claiming to be from Paul. The letter asserted that the Day of the Lord, i.e., the second coming of Jesus, had already occurred. This created a kind of internal tension and reactions. Some even relaxed and never wanted to bother themselves with the things of faith again. But Paul calls their attention not to allow themselves be distracted by any false message about the coming of the Lord. And while they still have to hope for that day, he admonishes them not to relent in good works.
GOSPEL: Luke 19:1-10
Barely one week Luke spoke about the “metanoia” of a certain tax collector in the Temple of prayer, today he points out the clear identity of another tax collector “the Sycamore Zacchaeus.” It is Luke’s way of affirming that the Kingdom of God is taking a different meaning. It is no longer an inheritance of the supposed chosen ones rather for those who though are counted apart but have acknowledged their unworthiness and in humility set off in search of the kingdom of God made visible in Christ.
Today Jesus meets Zacchaeus at Jericho. Jericho was a very wealthy, commercial town in the Jordan valley known for growing palms and balsam groves. It was equally important because at the time of Jesus, there were two major highways in Israel, and one of them went through Jericho. Thus, Jericho was one of the flourishing tax centers of Palestine and its tax-collectors were very rich and popular.
How does Zacchaeus’ meeting with Jesus look like?

1. The thirst: Zacchaeus was anxious to see Jesus (Lk 19:3)
   Why did Zacchaeus want to see Jesus? It was perhaps a mere curiosity. But could this eagerness be an indication of something deeper – a thirst, a desire? And where does that desire come from? Certainly God was the source of the thirst. He personally organized the encounter. Jesus chose to cross the path of Zacchaeus and not the other way round.
2. The search: He ran ahead (Lk 19:4a)
   Because God had already stirred that desire in the heart of Zacchaeus, he could not resist the attractive force of the presence of Jesus. He rose up in search for Jesus. This search could be likened to that of the woman who went to the well to satisfy her thirst (Jn 4:7). Zacchaeus was thirsty. He had a problem. His life was empty.
3. Two impending obstacles that would have distracted this search:
   Zacchaeus was short.This is a physical description of his person and which prevented him at first from seeing Jesus. This was a self-imposed problem.
   The second obstacle was “the crowd.” This seemed to be a greater obstacle that almost made it impossible for him to see Jesus. It was an obstacle rising from his environment and the people around him.
4. The sign of victory: He climbed a sycamore tree (Lk 19:4b)
   Because God has destined him for this divine encounter, no obstacle can defeat such plan.The same God who has put within him the desire to search for Him, also showed him a way out. Sycamore tree in its meaning is a symbol of “strength, protection and divinity. It was God’s sent signpost for Zacchaeus and he did not lose sight of it. He saw it as a pointer to Jesus like the way the Magi saw a star in the east. They recognise that this is the time to go searching for the Son of God. However, even when the found themselves in the palace of Herod which was an obstacle for them, the same God that brought them from the east stirred afresh in their hearts that it wasn’t their destination. They were temporarily uncomfortable because they lost sight of the star. We were told that when they saw the star, they rejoiced (Matthew 2:10).
   Another important act displayed by Zacchaeus is the “Climbing of the Sycamore.” It was an act of individual will to be open to the grace of God. He did not stop at seeing and admiring the Sycamore tree but he grabbed it as a God-sent medium to encounter him. It was a difficult thing to do owing to his worth in the society as a rich man…but he understood that God is greater than his worth. Thus he dropped the robe of pride and vested himself with the robe of humility which is the only vestment suitable for meeting God.
5. The invitation : Zacchaeus, come down (Lk 19:5)
   This is a very important moment in the whole narrative. It reaffirms the teaching of the Church that Salvation is both an act and an initiative of God himself. Notice that it was Jesus himself who invited him to a banquet. It is a prefiguration of the heavenly banquet meant for saints and which Jesus himself will serve.The God of surprises in Jesus goes to Zacchaeus who is now on the tree: “Zacchaeus, come down. Hurry, because I am to stay at your house today” (Lk 19:5). Jesus invited himself into the house of Zacchaeus just as he did with the woman who came to the well to draw water (Jn 4:7). It was Jesus himself who took the initiative to make the ‘seductive’ proposition: “Give me something to drink” as a means of having his way into her life.
6. The encounter : Jesus has gone to stay in the house of Zacchaeus (Lk 19:7)
   Zacchaeus’ meeting with the Lord on the tree would not have been complete if he had not allowed Him into his home. In other words into his heart. It was a moment of communion made visible through meal. Meals signify fellowship, celebration and sealing of a covenant. So many gospel encounters unfold in the context of a meal: the sinner woman (Lk 7: 36-50), multiplication of loaves (Jn 6); last supper (Jn 13); the resurrection encounter (Jn 21:1-13); the two disciples on the road to Emmaus (Lk 24:13-35).
   At every Eucharistic meal, it is Jesus himself who prepares table for those who desire salvation through communion with him.
7. Saving Grace : Today salvation has come (Lk 19:9)
   After Jesus had played his part, it was left for Zacchaeus to give a definitive response in order to make the encounter complete. In other words, conversion which is the initiative of God cannot be complete until man makes an active and concrete response. And this rejoins the words of St. Augustine: “The God who created us without us, cannot save us without us.” The concrete response to conversion must be expressed in the act of renunciation. That is a pledge not to remain the same again since the new life is not compatible with the old. That is the pattern of leaving something behind like the woman on the well who left her jar of water because at that point it was no longer important for her since she now has a new jar of water, that is her new heart filled no longer with the old water of jacob but with the living water which is Jesus himself (Jn 4:28).This is exactly what Zacchaeus did. And the promise to repay whatever he has spoiled in the past is a penance that follows a penitent. There is a price that must be paid for any damage caused. Zacchaeus understood this and opened his heart to do it even more. It was not until then that Jesus pronounced the saving word: “Today salvation has come to this house, because this man too is a son of Abraham” (Lk 19:9).
   LESSON OF THE DAY
8. Jesus has not stopped to enter the ‘Jericho’ of our lives. Each one of us like Zacchaeus has got his own saving opportunity but we must use it as he did. Jesus will not return back to ‘Jericho’ to meet Zacchaeus again. He got the chance and he used it. Let us not postpone our own hour of meeting with the Lord. It could be our last opportunity.
9. Zacchaeus was said to be short and was unable to see Jesus because of the crowd. Taken from its spiritual perspective, sin makes us short of the glory of God. The more we love sin and grow in friendship with it, the shorter we become and eventually lose sight of God. And when he passes our way, we cannot see him because our sins have rendered us spiritually short. The crowd of people that blocked the view of Zacchaeus was the world and its riches and distractions. Even when it was his last opportunity to see Jesus, they still could not allow him. They kept blocking his view. What is blocking our view of Jesus? We must be courageous enough like Zacchaeus to defeat them.
10. We must be open to grace. His word says: “My grace is enough for you: for power is at full stretch in weakness” (2 Cor 12:9). Zacchaeus opened his heart to the river of God’s grace and it flowed into the heart of his home. He allowed Jesus into his home, thus moving from public admiration and curiosity of Jesus’s identity to a concrete personal encounter with him. Many of us are still on the ‘Sycamore.’ We have grown used to admiring Jesus while sitting on the fence because we have blocked our hearts from allowing him to invite us into our home. Let us accept his invitation today for a total life changing encounter.
11. We must be ready to make amends. Don’t you think you and I have part of Zacchaeus in us? We may have extorted others either with our position or talent. The justice of God and the call to a new life demands that we pay them back. Secondly we must learn to take our penance seriously. Many of us leave the confessional thinking that to do penance is a second option afterall the sins are confessed. No, the penance given by the priest at the confessional completes the process of our healing. Let Zacchaeus guide our step on this.
    PRAYER
    Lord Jesus help me to always desire for change and do not pass me by nor let the ‘crowd’ of difficulties stop me from reaching you. Amen.

Why Pagan Pilate Is Found in the Creed
STEPHEN BEALE
hen Pontius Pilate accepted the post of Governor of Judaea, he never could have imagined that he’d cross paths with God Incarnate, or that his name would end up in the creed recited by millions of Christians every Sunday.
And yet Pontius Pilate is in both of the main Christian creeds, the Apostles’ Creed and the Nicene Creed (see here for a side-by-side comparison).
Both creeds assign a similar role to Pilate. Here’s what the Nicene version says:
For our sake he was crucified
under Pontius Pilate;
he suffered died and was buried.
The Apostles Creed is comparable:
He suffered under Pontius Pilate,
was crucified, died, and was buried.
He descended into hell.
As Catholics, we recite the Nicene Creed every Sunday without giving much thought to the pagan in the creed. Pilate is, after all, an integral part of the story of Jesus. Nevertheless, his place in the creed is curious. Everything else in the two creeds is a person, object, or belief of the faith. As far as we know, Pilate never came to the faith and, even if he did, that’s not why he’s in the creed.
We simply cannot accept the explanation that he was casually thrown in. Remember, the early Christians fiercely debated the truths of the faith down to the very letter. At one point, the division between Arians and orthodox Christians hinged on whether the letter “i” should be added to the Greek word
homoousious . Without the additional letter, the word declared that Jesus was the ‘same in being’ or ‘consubstantial’ with the Father. The change in spelling, however, would have changed its meaning to say that Christ was only ‘alike’ in being to the Father.
So no, Pilate is not in the creed by accident.
History
First, Pilate’s existence reinforces the historicity of the Incarnation. His reference confirms that Jesus walked this earth and died on it at a specific time and place. The story of Jesus is anchored in concrete events. God entered history itself and Pilate’s presence in the drama reminds us of this. (This is the explanation preferred by patristic commentator Rufinus, who says of the framers of the creed, “They who have handed down the Creed to us have with much forethought specified the time when these things were done.”)
Witness to Innocence of Jesus
Second, Pilate stands as a witness to Jesus’ innocence. In the gospel accounts, Pilate is the closest thing to an impartial judge Jesus was going to get. He examines Jesus and acquits Him of the charges. Luke 23:14-15 recounts his words this way:
You brought this man to me and accused him of inciting the people to revolt. I have conducted my investigation in your presence and have not found this man guilty of the charges you have brought against him, nor did Herod, for he sent him back to us. So no capital crime has been committed by him.
This is a crucial aspect of Jesus’ atoning sacrifice on our behalf: He was innocent. He was the ‘the sinless, spotless Lamb of God’ offered for our sake (1 Peter 1:19).
Pilate’s overall significance extends beyond the two reasons outlined above. In bringing him to mind, the creed beckons us to look closer into the role he plays in the gospel story.
Witness to the Emptiness of the World
We can begin by noting that Pilate marks an interesting contrast with the Jewish opponents of Jesus. Both parties represent opposite approaches to worldly government. If the Jewish leaders in the story were overly zealous for the reconstitution of an earthly Jewish state, Pilate was completely dispassionate and indifferent. He is the personification of the bored bureaucrat who can’t be bothered to take a position on right and wrong. All four gospel account portray his decision to execute Jesus as an act meant to mollify angry crowds (see Matthew 27 , Mark 15 ,
Luke 23 , and John 18 ). In Matthew, Pilate even washes his hands in front of the crowd in any effort to shirk any responsibility.
The World’s Rejection of Jesus
It seems necessary that Jesus’ rejection be as complete as possible. His people—at least a sizable portion of them—had rejected Him. Pilate’s sentence thus represents the rejection of the world. Ironically, in a way, this paves the way for all future believers to accept Jesus. Although the next two thousand years would contain many instances of powerful Christian states and Church institutions, at its heart, the story of Jesus is of a God who assumed our humanity in radical humility, asking us to ‘believe also in me’ (John 14:1). The redemptive work of Jesus would not have been possibly had he been the worldly savior so many Jews of the time wanted. Likewise, had a pious Pilate saved Him there would have been no suffering, no death, and no resurrection.
An Admonition to Believe
In the account of John, Pilate doesn’t seem to know what to make of Jesus:
Jesus answered, “My kingdom does not belong to this world. If my kingdom did belong to this world, my attendants would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not here.” So Pilate said to him, “Then you are a king?” Jesus answered, “You say I am a king. For this I was born and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” Pilate said to him, “What is truth?” (John 18:36-38)
What must it have been like for this Roman figurehead to breathe the same air as God-made-man? What did He see when He looked into Christ’s eyes? Did He sense he was in the presence of something and Someone far greater than what he could comprehend? Pilate certainly seems curious. In the above dialogue, he is clearly feeling Jesus out, trying to get to the bottom of things.
His final question has lent itself to many interpretations. On its face, it looks like the ultimate statement of relativism. Others have seen it as sarcasm or an expression of frustration. There is yet another interpretation, according to Matthew Henry, a seventeenth century Presbyterian commentator :
Pilate put a good question, he said, What is truth? When we search the Scriptures, and attend the ministry of the word, it must be with this inquiry, What is truth? and with this prayer, Lead me in thy truth; into all truth. But many put this question, who have not patience to preserve in their search after truth; or not humility enough to receive it.
Pilate stands as both a cautionary tale and a call to faith. He shows the perils of not pursuing the truth. And, in so doing, he calls us to respond differently. When we seek the truth. When we ask the truth we must wait for Jesus to answer us.
The Mystical Theological Reason
Finally, there is a mystical theological reason for Pilate’s encounter with Christ. It was necessary for the Good News to be announced throughout the world. Jesus preached, of course, to his fellow Jews. But the Word also needed to reach the Gentiles. Of course, the apostles later would spread the Gospel, but it was fitting for the Word Incarnate to do so Himself. Pilate stands in for all the future Gentiles who would hear it.
Jesus’ mission had to be complete.
Isaiah 55 describes God’s Word as if it was journeying throughout the world. 1 Peter 3:19 says He even preached to the ‘spirts in prison’—that is, those in hell, announcing to them the Good News they had forfeited. Indeed, in
On the Incarnation of the Word, St. Athanasius says Jesus ‘filled’ the whole world with His teaching.
Many before Him have been kings and tyrants of the earth, history tells also of many among the Chaldeans and Egyptians and Indians who were wise men and magicians. But which of those, I do not say after his death, but while yet in this life, was ever able so far to prevail as to fill the whole world with his teaching and retrieve so great a multitude from the craven fear of idols, as our Savior has won over from idols to Himself?
Jesus continues to fill the world with His teaching today through the Church. Thanks to His enduring Presence among us we can be confident we still hear His voice speaking to us from the gospel accounts. And, while His words to Pilate may have fallen on deaf ears, may the opposite be the case with us.
Tagged as: Apostle’s Creed , Creed ,
Pontius Pilate

What Does the Church Say About Ghosts?
FR. MICHAEL KERPER
Dear Father Kerper: It seems like there is a lot of evidence that there are ghosts that haunt people’s homes. Do ghosts really exist?
Thanks very much for your question about the reality of ghosts. Some people, of course, would brush it off as a silly thing to ask, but it actually leads us to consider anew two key Christian beliefs: first, that every human person is a communion of body (matter) and soul (spirit); and second, that human life continues forever after bodily death, first as a bodiless soul, and eventually as a resurrected human being with body and soul reunited. To put your question differently: can these bodiless souls — ghosts — appear and intervene in our lives?
We have to clarify the term “ghost.” I am not speaking here about menacing spirits that terrorize movie characters. This English word “ghost” comes from the German word “geist,” which broadly means “spirit,” including non-personal things such as the “spirit of the age” and so on. In English, “ghost” specifically means the soul of a dead person that becomes discernible through our eyes, ears, nose (some ghosts smell!), or skin.
In theory, billions of ghosts potentially exist because billions of human beings have “lost” their bodies through death. Strictly speaking, these disembodied souls are not ghosts because they have never become discernible to any living people. Only those few souls whose presence is seen or felt by others are truly ghosts. And their existence is plausible. But here we must proceed with great caution.
Let’s look at Sacred Scripture. The book of Deuteronomy condemns anyone “who consults ghosts and spirits or seeks oracles from the dead” (see Deut. 18:10–11). And the book of Leviticus warn against using “mediums” to contact the souls of the dead (see Lev. 19:31; 20:6, 27). These legal prohibitions demonstrate that at least some people believed in ghosts. If they didn’t, why prohibit attempted contacts?
This article is from A Priest Answers 27 Questions.
The Old Testament also has a few ghost stories. The most famous one is in 1 Samuel 28:8–20. Here the inspired writer tells how King Saul met with the ghost of the prophet Samuel. In 2 Maccabees 15:1–16, you can read about the encounter between Judas Maccabeus, the great Jewish patriot, and the ghost of Onias, the dead high priest. These Old Testament laws and stories affirm that the people of Israel believed that human souls survive after death and can have contact with the living, at least occasionally.
Now, let’s see what theology contributes to the matter. To be frank, many theologians haven’t written much about ghosts, but some have, notably Saint Augustine and Saint Thomas Aquinas.
According to Saint Thomas ( Summa Theologica , Suppl., Q. 69, art. 3.), the souls of the dead who are in heaven can indeed manifest themselves to the living on their own initiative. Such appearances, however, are not “hauntings” meant to terrify or tease people. Rather, these saintly apparitions occur only to bring comfort and encouragement, never fear. And remember, “saint” means anyone who dwells with God, not just those officially declared “saints” by the Church.
In light of this, it is theoretically possible for loved ones, such as deceased grandparents or children (even babies), to become sensibly discernible to us. While such occurrences may be rare, there is no reason to rule them out. In a sense, these spirits are “ghosts” but they are benign, even loving.
Now we move to the matter of malicious ghosts, the nasty type that pop up in horror movies and novels. Saint Thomas clearly states that the souls of the dead, who are not in heaven, can never appear to the living without God’s consent. But why would God ever allow ghosts to “haunt” people?
Saint Thomas gives two reasons: first, as a warning; and second, to seek spiritual assistance from the living in the form of prayer or good deeds to advance the dead person toward fulfillment in God. The ghosts or “non-saints” may annoy people, but they can never harm them.
Of course, one can read somewhat credible stories about destructive “hauntings,” but Saint Thomas always insisted that these “ghosts” were definitely not the souls of dead people, but something else, most likely demons masquerading as ghosts.
This brief exploration about ghosts leads us to a very positive point: the spiritual bonds between the living and dead, especially those who love one another, are deep, unbreakable, and mysterious because they are rooted in the Body of Christ, which embraces the living and dead. We have nothing to fear, for God governs all things — including “ghosts” — with wisdom and love.

Prayer, Purgatory, and All Souls Day
CARI DONALDSON
When I was a Protestant, there were things I thought I knew about the Catholic Church, things I knew I didn’t know about the Catholic Church, but didn’t want to learn, and then a box marked, “Everything Else”.
During my conversion process, that “Everything Else” box grew bigger and bigger as I slowly acquainted myself with this strange new religion that familiarity had convinced me I knew everything about, but pride had kept me ignorant of. One of the most beautiful, exotic jewels I discovered in that box was All Souls Day.
Growing up Presbyterian, everyone went to Heaven. And they went there immediately upon the death rattle. It wasn’t that there was an unshakable certainty in each souls’ eternal reward, it was just that it was gauche to suggest people other than the Hitlers and Jeffrey Dahmers of humanity went to hell, and there was no other option in Protestant theology. So everyone, from the drunken uncle who didn’t exactly abuse his wife, but certainly made her life uncomfortable, to the coworker who never once, in the 20 years you worked with her, so much as mentioned God, went immediately and directly to their heavenly rest.
It was an odd system, one that not only ignored God’s perfect Justice, but also made His perfect Mercy something cheap and tawdry.
During the RCIA process, I’d bought a copy of the Catechism , and I read it, cover to cover, in the evenings after the kids had gone to bed. The day I was introduced to the topic of Purgatory was a life-changer for me:
1030 All who die in God’s grace and friendship, but still imperfectly purified, are indeed assured of their eternal salvation; but after death they undergo purification, so as to achieve the holiness necessary to enter the joy of heaven.
1031 The Church gives the name Purgatory to this final purification of the elect, which is entirely different from the punishment of the damned. The Church formulated her doctrine of faith on Purgatory especially at the Councils of Florence and Trent. The tradition of the Church, by reference to certain texts of Scripture, speaks of a cleansing fire:
As for certain lesser faults, we must believe that, before the Final Judgment, there is a purifying fire. He who is truth says that whoever utters blasphemy against the Holy Spirit will be pardoned neither in this age nor in the age to come. From this sentence we understand that certain offenses can be forgiven in this age, but certain others in the age to come.
1032 This teaching is also based on the practice of prayer for the dead, already mentioned in Sacred Scripture: “Therefore [Judas Maccabeus] made atonement for the dead, that they might be delivered from their sin.” 609 From the beginning the Church has honored the memory of the dead and offered prayers in suffrage for them, above all the Eucharistic sacrifice, so that, thus purified, they may attain the beatific vision of God. The Church also commends almsgiving, indulgences, and works of penance undertaken on behalf of the dead.
When I dug this jewel out of the box of Catholic teaching, it was both beautiful and terrifying. It was beautiful because it finally gave due respect to both God’s justice and His mercy. It was terrifying because it sounded like it involved pain.
I don’t like pain.
The next week, I marched into the priest’s office, my copy of the Catechism dog-eared to the offending section. I slapped it down on his desk and pointed at the part about Purgatory.
“It says here that Purgatory is like burning,” I said to him, with that aggression that is born of fear. “Is that true? If it is, I’m out. I’m not going to do this whole conversion thing just to end up burning in the afterlife anyway.”
Clearly, I was in desperate need of religious education. And the more I learned about Purgatory, the more grateful for it I became. I was so grateful for the generosity of God, who give us the security of justice, but also the security of mercy. I was so grateful knowing that there was a system in place for me to purify myself of the vices I may fail to shed in this life. From a purely human, flawed point of view, it was somehow easier to envision not-so-stellar people enjoying the bliss of heaven if I remembered they had some soul cleaning to endure first.
With that realization, came the understanding that there were people, unknown numbers of people, currently undergoing the purification. My heart broke for them- those who knew they were destined to be united with God in Heaven, but were still undergoing that fire of final sanctification. What did that fire feel like? How deeply did it burn?
But, like the loving mother she is, the Church doesn’t just shrug her shoulders and let the soul in Purgatory burn in isolation. Rather, she gives us, the living, chance after chance to help our brothers and sisters along in their purification. Prayers, indulgences, alms and fasting are all ways we can help, and All Souls Day is like the Super Bowl for helping out purgatorial souls.
Coming down off the high of All Saints day, the Church asks us to remember those who’ve gone before us, who will eventually take their place among the angels and saints, but haven’t gotten there yet. And so take a moment to remember those poor souls, who can’t even whisper a shred of prayer for themselves anymore. Say a decade of the Rosary for them. Light a candle for them. Even better, go to a cemetery to do so. Firmly ground yourself in the physical reality that all our lives have an expiration date, and someday, by the grace of God, it’ll be us in Purgatory, burning off those last imperfections, gratefully accepting the prayers of the living.